


I Make the Moves up as I Go

by charcoalcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Impala Sex, M/M, Mark of Cain, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:18:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3808366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalcas/pseuds/charcoalcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10.12 Coda, except Cas was also deaged and in a sweatshirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Make the Moves up as I Go

"You were a pretty cute teenager, you know."

Cas looks over at Dean from the passenger seat and grins as best he can with his cheeks stuffed with cheeseburger. Residual adolescent appetites, they'd said to themselves, and dropped Sam off at the motel to find the nearest drive-thru. Now, with the radio on low, they're working their way through a late night dinner in the motel parking lot.

"You had more freckles," Cas says, balling his burger wrapper up and tossing it in the backseat. Cas has always been like this, making himself at home in Dean's space whenever he feels welcome. "But I missed the lines around your eyes."

"I missed your beefcake bod," Dean teases, quickly stuffing a handful of fries in his mouth to shut himself up and avoid any other painful attempts at flirting.

Cas drops his chin to his chest and chuckles, then glances over at Dean in a way that's almost shy. 

"What?" Dean rips open another honey mustard packet and wills himself not to fuck this up. "Teenage you was kind of shrimpy."

Instead of answering, Cas plucks the food bag from Dean's lap and rummages around in it, looking for stray fries. When he finds none, he steals the rest of Dean's and dumps barbecue sauce right into their container. It's uncouth, not that Cas gives a fuck, and it makes Dean want to kiss the leftover mayo smears from the burger off the corner of his mouth and maybe hold his hand.

Really, Dean should get control of himself. He's not in a horny teenage body anymore that had chubbed up every time Cas scowled or moved within five feet of him. He's a grown man. Who apparently loves Taylor Swift, though truthfully that had been a surprise only to Sam. But still a grown man, who is absolutely not leaning over the seat and cupping Cas' jaw with his hand and pulling him closer and kissing him quick and chaste, like they're skipping prom to share all kinds of firsts at some small town lookout point. 

Except he is.

Cas is smiling when Dean pulls back, exhaling a warm puff of breath against Dean's face. "What was that for?"

Dean shrugs. He feels playful. Spry. Like he doesn't have a bad knee or a mark burned into his skin. "You're still cute."

"I'm an old man," Cas deadpans. "I saw the Redwoods when they were just-"

But Dean cuts him off and kisses him for real this time, pushing him back against the window and sticking a daring hand underneath Cas' tshirt, where his skin is soft and warm and expansive and everything Dean has been missing. Cas is still wearing his teenager clothes and Dean isn't complaining - he looks like a grumpy bird all wrapped up in his oversized navy blue hoodie, and his black skinny jeans definitely don't leave too much to the imagination.

They kiss for a while, speeding up only to slow down only to speed back up again, until finally Cas must think "fuck it" and sticks a hand down the front of Dean's pants.

"Woah," Dean yelps, jumping enough to hit his head on the roof. Cas, unbothered, murmurs something and sucks on Dean's neck. "Cas - Cas-"

"What," Cas groans, impatience not unique to his deaged self, leaning back against the window and running a hand through Dean's hair. He tightens it a little experimentally and Dean sucks in a breath and closes his eyes.

"Alright," Dean says. "Back seat."

Cas reaches blindly behind himself to open the door and practically falls out in his haste to scramble out and into the back. Dean smartly decides to try to haul himself over the front seat into the back, but it's harder than it was when he was sixteen. They're both wheezing and wincing by the time they're finally settled - God, they're too old for this - but are back on each other in an instant. It's faster now, more heated, the Top 40 station in the front playing some fast pop song that has Dean grinding down on Cas until they're both laughing and sweating.

They've only done this once before, in Rexford. It had been the best night of Dean's life, unquestionably. They hadn't had time to talk about it since, stealing careful brushes of hands and a few slow kisses whenever they had the chance to. And it wasn't like Dean needed sex, as awesome as it had been. He found himself longing for waking up with Cas snoring in his ear more than anything else. It was a good night, the memories of which had gotten Dean through some very bad nights lately, nightmares chased away by the image of Cas' sleepy eyes crossing when he first opened them the morning after with how closely he was watching Dean, or of Cas' soft smile when he had buttoned up his shirt while Dean laced up his boots. They're treasured, and Dean hadn't wanted to taint them with what he's become even if they had found the time.

But tonight feels different. He feels clean. As the radio helpfully supplies, he's feeling like a teenage dream. So he makes the time.

A familiar tune returns to the station when Cas' converse knocks into the window - there's only so far he can spread his legs in the cramped backseat, but, unashamed as ever, Cas still tries to stretch those meaty suckers as far apart as he can, grabbing two handfuls of Dean's ass to drag him into the space left behind - and Dean finds himself humming along as he sits back and takes in the sight of Cas sprawled out below him looking absolutely wrecked, all flushed and tousled and transparently irritated that Dean's stopped moving.

Before Cas can complain, Dean plucks at Cas' sweatshirts and sings, "Take, take, take, take, take it off, take it off."

Cas lets out a surprised huff of laughter and sits up, kisses Dean around their matching smiles as he fumbles his sweatshirt off. He even obliges Dean as he wiggles out of his tshirt by providing the background vocals, his voice going absurdly high and cracking, as Dean sings along. But they laugh, and Dean keeps singing as he pulls his own clothes off, and then finally they're falling down together again, hips finding a rhythm that has Dean swearing and Cas' long lashes fluttering.

The song concludes and it fades into something else that Dean doesn't know. Cas wraps his arms around Dean's broad shoulders so fucking gently that Dean has to hide his face against Cas' neck so this won't become a crying thing.

But he does whisper, "Love you."

He feels Cas nod above him. "Love you too," he pants. "Always, always."

"Shit," Dean whimpers, mashing his mouth against Cas' jaw in as much of a kiss as he can make right now. "God, Cas."

And fuck it, maybe a little tear does escape, but it doesn't matter because Cas is right there with him, his stupid little burger wrapper from earlier rolling off the seat onto his sweatshirt on the floor, and Dean raises his head and does try to kiss Cas then, earnest and vulnerable, and it feels different than any kiss he's had before. Cas drags his hands from Dean's sweaty back to hold Dean's face there even when their lips part. They collapse into each other like this, breathing into each other's mouths with foreheads pressed together, eyes wide with wonder at their honesty.

Cas drapes his sweatshirt over them afterward. They doze lightly as they come back to themselves, only moving because Dean grumbles about the Impala's battery and Cas kindly throws on his boxers and sweatshirt to hobble barefoot over the cold asphalt to turn the keys and toss them back to Dean.

They giggle and whisper like the teenagers they were a few hours ago when they sneak back into the motel room, but there's a note on the nightstand from Sam saying he got his own room. 

Dean's sudden anxiety must show on his face because Cas smiles rather goofily and pulls him down onto the bed, curls the blanket over them, and, as he wedges a leg between Dean's and drops a kiss onto his shoulder, sagely advises, "Shake it off."

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr. title taken from taylor swift's "shake it off."


End file.
